‘Came in here late afternoon. Told him he wasn’t welcome. Sent him on his way.’

I raised my eyebrows in a question.

Ralph shrugged. ‘I’ve got four daughters,’ he said quietly. ‘If there’s any chance that he’s the bastard targeting women in pubs, then he’s not welcome here.’

I got a lump in my throat. Sometimes kindness came from the unlikeliest of allies. I gave him a small nod of gratitude. He nodded back; no words necessary.

‘How did he react when you asked him to leave?’ asked Wozza.

‘He wasn’t happy,’ said Ralph, ‘but the publican’s the boss.’ He shrugged, acknowledging his authority humbly.

Outside the pub, Wozza and I went through what we knew. Jack Barratt had been at the Royal late afternoon, but Ralph had kicked him out. He’d been gone before Meg and her friends arrived. And Lachie Murtog had been there at the same time as Meg. Wozza took out his notepad and scribbled down the names Ralph had given him. We would need to talk to all of them.

CHAPTER 14: THE COMFORT OF A NANA

CHAPTER 14

THE COMFORT OF A NANA

It had been a long Friday and I was looking forward to its end. It was after six by the time I turned the lights off in the office and headed out. Wozza had left earlier. His daughters needed collecting from various locations around town and I marvelled at the multitasking ability of parents. His departure had been reluctant, but uniform patrols were rostered to the four pubs around town, and after talking to Ralph Murphy at the Royal, Wozza and I had visited the other three and warned their staff about behaviours to watch out for.

I stayed later to type up notes from the day’s interviews before reviewing what we had. At the end, I was none the wiser about what had happened to Meg at the pub last night. Her friends thought she left with Nathan. Nathan thought she went back inside. Someone had slipped something into Meg’s drink—quickly. By the time she got outside with Nathan, it looked like she was drunk. Whatever the truth, Meg had a long road ahead of her. While some might think it was best not to remember, I had interviewed enough victims to understand that not knowing could be like fire ants crawling under your skin.